


the shape that i'm in now

by maharieel



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 04:44:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17995106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maharieel/pseuds/maharieel
Summary: on grief, and giving the heart a second chance





	the shape that i'm in now

**Author's Note:**

> a tribute to jade keeshan; we didn't even know you, but i'm sure i would've liked you

It is the first sunny day in weeks, and they’re back in Stormwind for the first time in weeks, and everything seems to be so long overdue and sweat-stained that Annika doesn’t really think twice about bundling up their belongings and trudging off into town. John complains, as he always does, but doesn’t make to follow her from the loft. She smiles to herself as she leaves.

The weather truly has put on a show today, she thinks, as she wanders through the city with an armful of blood-crusted and torn clothes. The sun beats heavy on her shoulders and birdsong rings through the streets; she was never one for cities, not really, but she could always make an exception for Stormwind. Her hot, summer home away from home.

John does better here than she expected he would. She supposes he had a home once, in his life before war. Still, she’s surprised at the smile he offers the children that run past his ankles and the kind tone he uses with the few vendors he visits. Annika knows she sticks out somewhat, all foreign accents and edges, but the locals treat her well enough if they spot her amongst the crowd. Not well enough known to be recognised, but regular enough to earn the occasional smile. She’s thankful for that most of all.

Rounding a corner, she spots the redbrick building down the street easily enough. The sign hangs crooked above her head, a bolt missing. She reminds herself to take a look at it before she leaves town again.

“Oh, hello there!” an old voice croons as she shoves her way through the front door. Wood scratches against wood. “Looks like quite the pile you’ve got there.”

Annika grimaces slightly at the elderly woman that potters around the corner. Her eyes look the size of apples reflected in her spectacles. Annika doesn’t recognise her.

“Yes,” she says, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m sorry if it’s too much.”

“Nonsense. Bring it here.”

Annika places the pile in a waiting basket, thankful to be rid of the burden. It’s only then that she really gages how filthy their things are. The occasional dunk in water does its job, but in the midday sun their underclothes are stained a russet brown from weeks old blood, tearing at the seams from stray enemy blades. If the woman notices any of it, she doesn’t seem to mind as she drags the basket out the back of the establishment.

A younger maid appears from a side room with a bucket of soap-filled water, and the three of them wander to the small patch of sun-soaked grass behind the building. Wildflowers bloom in the corners of the space, the rest taken up by lines pulled taut between trees. Almost all of them are full of garments, the colours reflecting off the green of the grass and bouncing back against the washhouse. Annika thinks Natalya would like it, here.

“This might take a while, dear,” the young maid says, inspecting the clothes. The old woman seems to have vanished back into the darkness of the building. “Come back before dusk and they’ll be scrubbed and dry for you.”

Annika nods, offers a small smile. “Thank you.”

She is halfway across the grass, the scent of flowers playing in her hair, when the maid calls out for her again. Turning, the amulet she holds out to Annika reflects harshly in the sun.

“Miss! You best take this now, lest you lose it.”

Something in her heart clenches at the sight of the amulet and she quickly gathers it up in her hands. The jade in it shines bright as ever where it rests in her hands, almost pulsing with life. She tucks it into her pocket with a heavy heart, even as the maid smiles at her unhelpfully.

“Thank you,” she mutters. Then, she’s gone.

 

*

 

She finds John resting on the wall outside the loft.

The sun streams through his hair, painting him in bronze and gold despite the dark shirt he has pulled on. His face is set in contentment, shoulders loose where they brace his weight against the stone. He looks untouched by war and conflict and pain, save the scars that tear across his skin in harsh lines of silver. She hates them all, instantly.

He looks up at her as she paces towards him. Noticing her empty arms, he shakes his head in amusement. “It’s gonna take that long, huh?”

Annika stares out at the sprawling city streets below them. “We had a lot.”

When she turns to look at him, he’s shifted his attention back to the horizon. Carefully, ever so carefully, she reaches for one of his hands. He gives it to her. Peeling apart his fingers, she clutches for the amulet and gently places it in his palm.

He snaps his eyes to it instantly. His other hand shoots to his neck, groping at nothing but chest hair, before his eyes land on hers with a sort of deflated horror.

“I’m sorry,” she says, hand still clasped in his. “The maid found it amongst our things. I … I hadn’t noticed.”

He’s staring. He won’t stop staring. She feels his skin go cold against hers, feels the tension in his palm as he extracts himself from her grip and swings around to stand on unsteady feet. His eyes bear into the jade, as if seeing the same liveliness she’d seen earlier. A part of her says she should feel jealous. She doesn’t.

“I …” he starts, voice cracking. “I didn’t …”

Annika reaches for his shoulder, cautious. He lets her come, even if his muscle is pulled tight under her touch. John lowers his head and slowly drapes the amulet back over his neck. Grief hangs heavy in his posture and she hates it.

“I didn’t realise.” She knows this hurts the most, that it’s absence went as unnoticed as a leaf in the breeze. “I … I didn’t know I’d even taken it off.”

There is a moment where Annika thinks he’s gone, heart shut down and shattered behind his ribcage. She’s ready to let him, even if it means he storms off into the crowd and she doesn’t see him for two days. Knows that the affection he has given her is never everything he has, knows that pieces of him will never be hers to claim. Neither of them are solid and she’s not ashamed to only receive him in fractures. Still –

He’s hugging her.

Lost in thought, it takes her a moment to process that he’s turned and is slowly tugging her against his chest until her cheek is flush against the pulsing green heart of the amulet. His arms are a cold but firm presence at her back. She feels his head fall into the crook of her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she says, his heart beat pulsing through her chest. Then, because it’s all she can think to say, “At least it didn’t get scrubbed.”

She feels his chest shutter against hers, his beard scratching against her shoulder at the movement.

“They would have,” she mutters against his skin, hands rubbing down his back. He breathes a half-hearted chuckle into her hair. “I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded.”

John pulls back, holding her at arm’s length. His cheeks are dry, but a heaviness hangs in his eyes that she can’t help but swallow at. The sun beats down on him, though, and the gold seeps back in. She’s grateful for it.

“Thank you,” he says. His eyes stutter closed for a second too long before opening again, more resolute than before. The amulet hangs steady at his neck. “Thank you.”

Annika stares at him for a moment longer, then lets her head fall back against his chest. One of his hands finds its way into her hair, playing at her scalp, and she breathes in the scent of him at the pleasure of it all. She catches the jade of the amulet glinting out of the corner of her eye, and smiles.

“I don’t think she would have minded at all,” he whispers.


End file.
